


The Softness of the Wolfe, or Five Times Bernie Wolfe was Soft

by Persiflage



Category: Holby City
Genre: 5 Times, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Baking, Bernie Wolfe: World's Okay-est Lesbian, Charlotte Dunn (Mentioned), Childminding, Cooking, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Elinor Campbell (mentioned), Elinor Campbell Lives, F/F, Greta Haynes (Mentioned), Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Jason Haynes (Mentioned), Kittens, Knitting, fletchlings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:01:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27380857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: Slight canon divergence: 5 times Bernie Wolfe was soft and Serena didn't expect it.
Relationships: Serena Campbell/Bernie Wolfe
Comments: 18
Kudos: 82





	The Softness of the Wolfe, or Five Times Bernie Wolfe was Soft

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sevtacular](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevtacular/gifts), [Rauz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rauz/gifts).



> Someone, and I'm afraid I've completely forgotten who, recently talked about Bernie not always being the tough Big Macho Army Medic, and apparently the idea lodged in my brain. I hope whomever that was doesn't feel that I've stolen their thunder (or their idea) by writing this because that was absolutely not my intention. If you do feel that, then I unreservedly apologise. But just because I've written this fic on that theme, doesn't mean more such fics can't or shouldn't exist, because they absolutely should - I am 100% in favour of there being more Soft Bernie Wolfe (TM) fics!
> 
> (Oh and Kiev never happens in this fic.)

**i**

Serena pulls up to Raf di Lucca’s house and lets herself in. She’s here to take over childcare duties from Bernie while Raf is working and Fletch is continuing to recover from being stabbed by James Fielding.

She hangs up her coat and takes off her shoes, then notices how incredibly quiet it is, which seems a little odd for a household containing four children, one of them Mikey Fletcher, who’s quite capable of being noisy enough for four children if he chooses.

It’s only as she starts down the hall that she realises she can hear a low murmur from at least one voice, and she walks further down the hall until she realises the sound is coming from the sitting room. It’s when she starts to open the door that she realises that the voice she can hear is Bernie’s and she appears to be reading aloud. She eases the door open and peers around it to a sight that she finds surprising and yet quite wonderful: Bernie is stretched out along the length of the sofa, with Theo asleep on her chest, held securely in place by her left arm. Her right arm is wrapped around Ella, who is awake but looking sleepy, and she is reading aloud from a Roald Dahl book. Mikey is sprawled on some cushions on the floor alongside the sofa, apparently doing his homework, and Evie is seated at the far end of the sofa with Bernie’s legs across her own lap. She’s also apparently doing her homework as far as Serena can see from her spot by the door.

When Serena brings her gaze back to Bernie, she’s startled to discover she’s been spotted by the trauma surgeon, whose eyebrows are raised in question, although she hasn’t missed a beat in the story she’s reading.

“ _The books transported her into new worlds and introduced her to amazing people who lived exciting lives. She went on olden-day sailing ships with Joseph Conrad. She went to Africa with Ernest Hemingway and to India with Rudyard Kipling. She travelled all over the world while sitting in her little room in an English village._ ”

“That’s the end of chapter one,” Bernie says, “and Serena’s here.”

Evie looks up at Serena, a beaming smile on her face and her eyes full of happiness at the sight of her. Mikey looks around at her over his shoulder and says “Alright?”, then turns his attention back to the papers spread out on the floor in front of him.

“Hello, Serena,” Evie says quietly, slipping out from under Bernie’s legs to cross the room and hug her.

“Hello, Evie, love. How are you?” She looks at Bernie over the top of Evie’s head. “How is everyone?”

“We were waiting for you so we can have lunch,” Mikey says. “The Major said we had to wait. And she said she’d make us frittata.”

“Did she indeed?” Serena asks, eyebrows raised.

“What?” Bernie says with a scowl. “I can cook.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Serena says placatingly. “Do you need a hand?” 

“If someone could take Theo, I might be able to get up,” Bernie says, and Serena and Evie both move towards her. Evie scoops up Theo and Serena picks up Ella and cuddles her.

“Right, troops. Wash your hands, then fall in in the kitchen.”

Serena raises her eyebrow at the stern tone of ‘the Major’ evident in Bernie’s voice. Mikey scrambles up from the floor and rushes off bellowing “Me first! Me first!”, and Evie follows him at a more sedate pace.

“My, my,” Serena says. “I don’t think I’ve ever witnessed the Major in full flow, before.” 

Bernie snorts. “That was not the Major in full flow. Trust me.” She leads the way into the kitchen and is soon admonishing Mikey for ‘conduct unbecoming to an officer and a gentleman’ when he jostles Evie as she’s settling Theo into his highchair.

“Settle down, now,” Bernie says using that stern tone again, “or you won’t be allowed to assist me.”

Mikey subsides, much sooner than Serena had anticipated, and she decides she wants to know just what Bernie’s been getting up to this morning to have Mikey Fletcher, of all people, eating out of her hand.

**ii**

“I didn’t know you knitted,” Serena says, surprised by the sight of her lover pulling knitting needles and wool from her satchel as she and Serena settle down for an evening of watching something of their own choosing while Jason’s staying at Allan’s for a couple of days.

Bernie glances sideways at her, before answering, “I do.”

“Since when?” Serena asks curiously, setting a glass of wine down on the end table beside Bernie, before taking a seat next to her with her own glass of wine.

“Since Cam was little, actually.” Bernie frowns. “I’m not just a ‘big macho army medic’, you know. I’m a mum, too, and while I’m no Maria von Trapp, I can still do things that are maternal.”

She turns her attention back to her knitting and Serena feels a bit like she’s been slapped. 

“I didn’t say you weren’t maternal,” Serena says. “You’re the one who’s always lamenting the fact you weren’t there for your kids.”

“Well I wasn’t,” Bernie says before she adds, “You were surprised, the other week, that I’d managed to look after the Fletchlings without Mikey causing a ruckus. And you were definitely surprised that I was going to cook for their lunch.”

Serena opens her mouth, then closes it again, knowing that Bernie’s right – she had gone to Raf and Fletch’s that Saturday expecting to find Mikey had run rings around Bernie, but instead all four children were well behaved, with both Mikey and Evie doing their homework while Bernie read to the youngest two.

“I apologise,” she says a little stiffly.

“Apology accepted,” Bernie says. She’s been knitting throughout their conversation and Serena can’t helping feeling a flash of surprise at the speed with which the blonde is working, but she says nothing.

“Can I ask what you’re knitting?”

“A scarf for Charlie’s birthday in a couple of weeks. She lost or mislaid hers when she recently moved into her new flat and as the weather’s getting colder, I thought it’d be nice to knit her a new one.”

“That’s very sweet,” Serena says. 

“Thanks.”

Serena puts the television on, then flicks through Netflix to find the show they’d agreed to watch tonight. She can’t help watching Bernie from the corner of her eye as she knits and watches _Orange is the New Black_ : the trauma surgeon’s hands are just as dextrous when she’s knitting as when she’s carrying out surgery, or indeed when she’s cooking, and Serena realises that she’s been seriously underestimating the other woman’s talents. She feels a surge of guilt and wonders how she can make it up to Bernie, besides learning not to assume that just because Bernie’s a former soldier she’s incapable of being feminine.

By the time they’re ready to head to bed several hours later, Bernie has a good few inches of scarf already on her needles and Serena can’t resist stroking the silky wool that she’s using.

“I might be a bit jealous of your daughter,” she observes to Bernie as they’re lying in bed a bit later.

“Hmm?” Bernie sounds half asleep already and Serena would be disappointed if it wasn’t for the fact that she knows that Bernie’s sleep was interrupted at 4am for an RTC, so she’s been awake for sixteen hours and has carried out multiple complicated surgeries in the time since she was paged into work.

“That scarf you’re knitting is going to be gorgeous.”

“If you’re nice to me, Campbell, I’ll knit you one too.”

“I shall be extra nice hereafter,” Serena promises.

Bernie chuckles, then draws her in closer so that she can rest her head on Bernie’s chest while they sleep.

**iii**

Serena’s just making her first coffee of the morning and wondering how far Bernie plans on running in the rain when she hears a muffled thump against the front door. She hurries up the hall to answer it and is surprised to see her lover on the doorstep. The blonde is holding the bottom of her running vest folded up towards her ribs and Serena frowns at her. 

“What’s the idea?” she asks, nodding at said vest as Bernie steps inside and stops on the newspapers spread on the far side of the doormat.

“Kittens,” Bernie says, shivering where she stands.

“Kittens?” Serena repeats, confused, then looks down and sees that her lover has two tiny scraps of fur that do, vaguely, resemble kittens, bundled in the bottom of her vest. “Where did you find them?” 

“In the park,” Bernie tells her. “Next to their dead mother.”

Serena tuts, then goes into the kitchen and brings a cardboard box from the scullery and a bundle of old, worn out t-shirts that are meant to be used as cleaning rags. “Come on, then,” she says, and sets down the box.

Bernie immediately takes one of the t-shirts from her and carefully wraps the two tiny kittens in it, then she folds herself down to sit cross-legged on the floor with the kittens in her lap and proceeds to arrange the t-shirts inside the cardboard box to make a nest for the kittens. Serena watches in mild bemusement as Bernie works hard to make the kittens comfortable – she’s quite sure they won’t survive long without their mother since they’re so tiny – but she says nothing to Bernie as she doesn’t want to upset her.

Once she’s satisfied with the arrangement of the t-shirts, Bernie lifts the bundle of kittens out of her lap and lowers them into the cardboard box. 

“Is the fire lit?” she asks.

“No,” Serena says. 

“Do you mind if I light it?”

“If you want to give them additional warmth, I suggest you put that box in the airing cupboard, next to the hot water tank,” Serena says. 

“Oh,” Bernie says. “Good idea.”

“I also suggest you strip out of your wet running gear,” Serena says, “while I take that box upstairs and get your robe and slippers. Then go and have a hot shower while I make breakfast. I don’t want you catching your death of cold just because you’re soft-hearted enough to go heroically rescuing kittens in the rain.”

Bernie allows Serena to take the box from her; judging from the pinking of her cheeks she’s embarrassed, though Serena’s not sure whether it’s because she called Bernie heroic or because she was soft-hearted enough to want to rescue the kittens in the first place.

“Thanks,” she murmurs, then proceeds to strip out of her wet vest and leggings, socks and running shoes. 

Serena heads upstairs and deposits the box of kittens in the airing cupboard on the shelf above the hot water tank. Then she goes into their bedroom and grabs Bernie’s bathrobe and slippers, and hurries back downstairs to find her lover standing in nothing but her boxer shorts, her wet clothes in a bundle by her bare feet, and her wet running shoes already stuffed with newspaper.

“C’mon soldier,” Serena says, “let’s get you warmed up and fed before you ring the vet and ask their advice on what to do with those kittens.”

“Thank you, Serena,” Bernie says softly, cupping her cheek and pressing a kiss to her lips before pulling on the robe and sliding her feet into her slippers. “I don’t think I say it as often as I should, but I love you.”

“I love you, too. Now go and get a shower and be quick about it while I make some breakfast.”

Bernie gives her a sloppy salute, then hurries upstairs, and Serena picks up the bundle of wet clothes her lover left behind, carrying them through the kitchen and into the utility room to put them in the washing machine.

When Bernie comes downstairs after her shower, her hair’s still damp and her face is pink, Serena assumes from the heat of the shower. She’s dressed in her usual skinny black jeans, topped with a black long sleeved shirt and a forest green jumper, and Serena’s mouth goes dry at the sight, even though its perfectly normal attire for her lover. She mentally shakes her head, then turns her attention back to stirring the scrambled egg she’s making to go with the bacon and sausages that are sitting under the grill. 

“I thought you’d be making porridge,” Bernie says, sounding surprised.

“Well, it’s a Sunday morning and you’re back sooner than anticipated from your run, so I thought I’d spoil us both. Do you mind taking the bacon and sausages from the grill, please?”

Serena steps to the side of the stove, still stirring the scrambled eggs, and Bernie grabs the oven mitts and slides the tray out from under the overhead grill, then quickly sets the oven tray onto the waiting trivet. 

“How many sausages do you want?” Bernie asks.

“I did two for me and three for you,” Serena tells her. “Same with the rashers of bacon. You need to refuel properly after getting so wet.”

Bernie slides the bacon and sausages onto the waiting plates, then holds them out to Serena as she turns off the cooker and spoons scrambled egg onto their plates, giving Bernie the more generous portion.

“You spoil me, Campbell,” Bernie says as they move over to the table. She presses her lips to the corner of Serena’s mouth before they sit down.

“You’re worth it,” Serena tells her. “Now eat up, Major, you’ve two kittens to care for now.”

Bernie chuckles, then grabs her knife and fork and tucks right into her breakfast. Serena can’t help thinking that she’s the luckiest woman alive, having Berenice Wolfe for her partner.

(The kittens survive thanks to Bernie’s early intervention and are given away to loving new homes.)

**iv**

Serena gets back from the hospital after finally leaving Jason with Greta and baby Guinevere to find Bernie in the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” she asks, a little befuddled because it looks like Bernie’s making a cake, which isn’t something she’s ever done before.

“Making a cake for Jason and Greta, to celebrate the birth of their baby,” her lover says, looking up from where she’s mixing her dry ingredients together. “I thought a gingerbread Bundt cake with Royal icing.”

“In all the time I’ve known you, you’ve never baked a cake before,” Serena observes lightly.

“Well, how often do we eat cake? We have pastries at work for breakfast, but we only rarely eat actual cake.”

“If I’d known you could bake, I’d have been eating cake regularly,” Serena says. She feels a tiny bit frustrated that she’s still learning new things about her lover – they’ve been together for quite a while now, and they’d worked together for months before they became lovers, yet Bernie keeps revealing these hidden facets of herself.

“I’m going upstairs to change,” she says and takes herself off before she can say anything she might regret.

By the time she returns downstairs, Bernie is clearing the table of her discarded implements, and she can smell Shepherd’s Pie as well as the gingerbread cake baking in the oven.

“I’m sorry,” Bernie says as soon as she sees Serena.

She frowns. “For what?”

“For not baking you cakes.”

Serena sighs. “You don’t need to apologise for that,” she says.

Bernie frowns at her then turns away to carry the last of her discarded baking implements over to the counter by the sink, before beginning to load the dishwasher. “Are you sure?” she asks quietly. “Because you seemed quite–” 

“Pissed off?” Serena suggests, crossing the kitchen to grab a cloth to wipe down the table.

“I was going to say ‘put out’, but yes, pissed off.”

Serena shrugs. “I won’t lie. I was pissed off – not because you haven’t been baking cakes for me, but because I didn’t know you knew how to bake cakes. Then I realised I was an idiot. Finding out new things about your partner is – or should be – fun, I think. Not a cause for a fight.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Bernie says, half turning towards her. “I didn’t deliberately withhold the information, I just–”

“It’s okay, Bernie,” Serena says. “Don’t worry about it.” She moves to stand behind her lover and wraps her arms around her waist. “I was being an idiot. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Bernie says softly, turning in her arms and kissing her. “What veggies do you want with the Shepherd’s Pie?”

“How about shredded cabbage and broad beans?”

“Okay.”

Serena gets out the vegetables and Bernie starts shredding the cabbage, and Serena feels a sense of peace settling over her. She’s lucky to have a partner who cares so deeply about the people who are important to her and she’s especially lucky that Bernie Wolfe cares so deeply about one Serena Wendy Campbell, even when she’s being a bit of an idiot.

Later, she watches in wonderment as Bernie very carefully ices Guinevere’s name onto the cake, with her date of birth underneath. It is a wonderful, loving gift, and Serena knows that Jason, in particular, will be touched by Bernie’s kindness in making the cake. She can’t wait to see his face when Bernie gives it to him and Greta.

**v**

It’s a year since Serena very nearly lost her daughter and her nephew in an accident that Elinor had caused after she lost her temper with her mother yet again and tried to run Serena down. Jason had rushed to push her to safety and Elinor had crashed into him instead, damaging his spleen. Luckily Bernie had been there to perform the necessary surgery to save Jason from a splenectomy, but the day had got worse before it got better, when Jasmine Burrows confided in Bernie that she’d caught Elinor high in the toilets before the accident. (She hadn’t dare tell Serena.) Bernie had immediately tracked her lover’s daughter down and insisted on carrying out a number of tests to ensure that she didn’t have any hidden injuries, which had saved her life and she’d eventually got herself clean, with the support of her mother, her cousin, and her mother’s lover. 

Having booked the day off work, Serena’s huddled in bed and trying not to cry when Bernie rolls over, yawns, then opens her eyes to give her lover a tender smile. 

Serena does her best to smile back – after all, it’s thanks to Bernie Wolfe that both Elinor and Jason are still alive – but she can’t quite manage it and after a moment Bernie opens her arms and softly says, “C’mere, love.”

She wraps her arms around Serena, pressing a kiss to her temple, then says, “They’re doing well, Serena. Jason and Greta are very happily married and baby Guin is a delight, as well you know, and Elinor’s thriving at the Holby City Gazette.”

“I know,” she says tearfully. “I know that I’m being ridiculous, but–”

“No, you’re not,” Bernie says firmly. “It’s not surprising you’re reliving today, but I hope that as more time passes you’ll be able to get through the third of January without it impacting you so deeply.” 

Serena can’t help breaking down at Bernie’s words and she feels incredibly grateful that the trauma surgeon doesn’t seem to mind Serena sobbing into her shoulder, her hand clutching tightly at the front of Bernie’s pyjama top. She feels her lover’s hand stroking up and down her back as she presses light kisses to Serena’s brow, and eventually her sobs dwindle into hiccoughs and she loosens her grip on Bernie’s top.

“Feel any better?” Bernie asks, reaching over and snagging the box of Kleenex on Serena’s nightstand.

“A bit,” Serena says, blowing her nose and mopping her eyes.

“Good. I was going to wait until breakfast to tell you this, but I think now’s a better time. We’re taking Jason, Greta, and baby Guin out for lunch. And this evening, Elinor is coming for dinner.”

Serena pulls back to look at her, completely astonished. “Did you arrange this?” 

Bernie ducks her head, hiding behind her fringe, then leans in to press a gentle kiss to her lips. “I did. I talked to Jason and Elinor when they were here for Christmas and explained that I thought you might find the day hard, and I asked if they’d mind sharing a meal with you today. Jason talked to Greta and agreed they’d like to have lunch with us, and Elinor asked if she could come and have dinner with us. I suggested that she might like to go out for dinner with you, some quality mother-daughter time, but she insisted she’d much rather come here and have dinner with both of us. She – um – she said that while we’re not married, she counts me as an unofficial stepmother, not least because I saved her life and, she said, saved her from ruin.”

Serena pushes Bernie backwards onto the mattress and presses their mouths together, kissing her lover deeply. 

“Thank you,” she says after she releases Bernie’s mouth. “Thank you very much. And I’m glad that Elinor doesn’t consider you an intruder any longer.”

“So am I, if I’m honest.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Berenice Wolfe,” Serena tells her, settling beside her lover with her head on her shoulder.

“You’d manage,” Bernie says, “because you always do. But it’s nicer not to have to manage alone.”

“Yes it is,” Serena agrees, sighing softly. “I’m so grateful you came into my life.”

“Me too, even if it took being blown up to achieve it.”

Serena unbuttons the top of Bernie’s pyjama jacket and presses a kiss to her sternum, just at the top of the scar that bisects her chest, a reminder of how they almost didn’t meet.

“I think I’d have preferred it if you hadn’t got blown up,” she says, “but if you had to get blown up, I’m glad it meant you came to Holby.”

Bernie slides her index finger under Serena’s chin, tipping it up, and leans in to kiss her gently. “You are, by far, the best thing that’s ever happened to me and there isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t feel gratitude to Fate for bringing us together. I love you, Serena Wendy Campbell, and I always will.”

Serena sighs, then nuzzles the crook of Bernie’s neck. “And I love you, Berenice Griselda Wolfe, and always will.”

As they lie snuggled together in their bed and Serena contemplates the day ahead, she can't help thinking that she would never have guessed that she’d find the greatest love of her life when she was on the wrong side of fifty, much less that said love of her life would actually be a woman. She reckons she is the luckiest woman alive.


End file.
